Backstreet Guy
by Faberry's-Knight
Summary: Finding out about Brody's betrayal on their wedding day, Rachel decides to not go through with it and leaves for Lima for the summer. Will she find love there in the form of one Lucas Quinton Fabray?
1. Chapter 1

**Newest story... Title also from Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl"**

**Give it a shot, and yell at me about how I don't update but come up with other stories... :D**

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It's finally the day and she couldn't be more excited.

In just a few minutes, she was to walk out and be married to her boyfriend of four years, Brody Weston.

Rachel Berry watches herself in the body-length mirror with a wide smile as her dad, Hiram, smooths out little, nonexistent wrinkles in her elegant snow-white dress.

She and Brody had met while they attended New York Academy for the Dramatic Arts. He was attractive, with a built body and light eyes that sparkled with mischief and amusement.

He had asked her out for coffee first, and, as they got to know each other, sparks made themselves known. They began to officially date two weeks after their coffee rendezvous. And three years and a half after, he proposed and she said yes without hesitating.

Brody was a gentleman, unlike her high school boyfriend, Finn. And Brody understood what being unfalteringly passionate about something meant, since he was equally passionate about theatre as she was. He comforted her when her dance teacher, Cassandra July, would bash her technique and bite out scathing remake about Broadway being too out of her league and that she should return to her small town of Lima, Ohio, where her talent would be something that no one could compete against.

And now here she is, in one of New York's many cathedrals and about to get married to the guy that had been her best friend, her confidant, her rock and soon would be her husband for the rest of their lives.

Her musings were broken when the door swings open to reveal an ashen Kurt Hummel. He had been her best gay since they had coursed together through William McKinley High School in Ohio, and after graduation, they had moved to New York to start classes in NYADA.

His eyes are wide and he looks paler than usual, his neatly styled hair standing at odd ends and he looks close to having a panic attack. "Rachel!"

She turns and Kurt shakily moves towards her. Grasping him by the shoulders, the tiny starlet looked at him, worry etched on her features. "Kurt, what's wrong?" Hiram is now looking worriedly at the young man, his gut telling him something's up.

"Rachel, Brody... Brody... he..." Kurt's gasping for breath, but his lungs seem to have shriveled up and no oxygen was making it in. His eyes roll to the back of his head before his body goes limp, and he passes out.

Rachel holds him before he hits the floor and Hiram helps her move him to a chair. She locks fearful eyes with her father, and she sees her own emotions reflected in his warm eyes.

"I need to find Brody." Rachel moves to the door.

"Rachel, you can't. It's bad luck if the bride and groom see each other before the ceremony starts." Hiram tries to stop his daughter, but knows that with Kurt's burst-in, he wasn't going to get anywhere with her.

"Dad, Kurt's passed out and he looked like he had seen a ghost when he came in. It's got something to do with Brody and I need to find out what happened that put him in this state." She walks out of the room, making her way to Brody's.

As she nears it, she frowns when she hears muffled noises from within. Creeping closer to the door, she turns the knob and opens it just a fraction of an inch, just enough for her to peek in.

Her breath catches in her throat at the sight.

There is Brody, her fiancé and soon-to-be husband, in his tuxedo pants and unbuttoned dress shirt, kneeling between the legs of the one and only Cassandra July.

The bottom of July's dress has been pushed up to mid-torso, the strap moved to the side and the top pushed down to meet the bottom end. She moans as her hands massage her breasts and Brody's head moves around like a bobble-head.

One manicured hand falls to the man's head, threading around his hair and keeping him in place, aiding his movements as her moans and groans increased.

Then, Brody stands and quickly undoes his pants, his member springing out. He pumps himself a few times before placing it at the writhing woman's entrance, pushing in quickly and setting a jackhammer pace.

The older woman thrashes around as Brody pistons his hips, thuds and squelching sounds mixing with moans and groans, filling the room and bringing tears to the hidden bride's eyes.

Rachel steps back, not being able to take any more of Brody's betrayal. She unexpectedly finds herself wrapped in comforting arms, hands soothingly stroking her back as she sobs.

"What do you want to do, baby girl? Do you want to leave?" Her daddy, Leroy, asks her as her tears soak the material of his shirt and her hands hold tightly to the lapels of his tuxedo jacket.

She pulls away from his embrace and, looking up at her daddy's eyes, she answers, "I'm going to leave him at the altar."

He nods, not expecting his daughter to do something violent like he wanted to do. He's thinking of walking into that room and castrate that bastard with his own hands.

They silently walk back to Rachel's room, where Kurt is still out. Fixing her make-up and putting some eye drops to deal with the redness, she looks at herself once more.

"Perfect. He won't know that I saw... what he was doing." She lets out, breathing deeply to reign in her emotions.

Hiram walks in at that moment, "Rach, it's time."

She nods at her father and plasters on a perfect fake smile, so good that it could pass for the real deal.

They walk out of the room and stand on the wing, waiting for their cue in the form of the wedding march. An arm linked with each of her fathers', the brunette walks down the aisle, her eyes finding Brody smiling at her from the altar, the pastor standing beside him, a Bible in his hand.

She's Jewish, but Brody insisted of doing things this way. She's only realizing now that he had pulled an asshole move by rejecting her wishes of having a traditional Jewish wedding in favor of his own Christian traditions. They could've done both.

"Who gives this woman away to this man?" The pastor asks the Berry men.

Although they know what the outcome of this ceremony will be, the Berry men still have to play the part. "We do," they answer together.

They place Rachel's right hand on Brody's left, and the guy smiles at her, her own lips pulling up and back to return the smile at him.

The pastor flies through the starting speech, quickly moving to the wedding vows. "Do you, Brody Weston, take this woman, Rachel Barbra Berry, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," replies a smiling Brody.

The pastor turns to Rachel, "And do you, Rachel Barbra Berry, take this man, Brody Weston, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

Brody looks at her, his eyes shining with happiness, coaxing her into saying yes. But she feels the pain of his cheating on her with Ms. July and knows what's the best choice for her.

"Ms. Berry?"

"Rach?"

Both Brody and the pastor are looking at her, expecting her answer.

She looks at the pastor and then at Brody, his anxious and confused expression clear in his eyes and handsome features, her full lips parting and letting her answer out.

"I don't."

She hears the collective gasp of the attendees at her response, before the domed cathedral is filled with the buzz of whispered conversations. But she can't hear any of it, her attention solely focused on Brody.

His broken countenance makes regret rise up in her chest, but she quickly stomps it down. He has no reason to look like that when what was supposed to be her perfect wedding day had been ruined, tainted by her finding him sleeping with their former teacher.

Turning away, she starts to walk down the aisle, en route of the door, but Brody grabs her by the elbow and forces her to look at him. "Why are you doing this?" He whispers harshly.

"Because I found out that you're not who I thought you were, who you led me to believe you were." She rasps, tugging her arm free and walking away, her fathers flanking her.

She lets her tears fall just as the crisp May breeze caresses her cheeks. Making her way to her fathers' car, she climbs in and waits for them to do the same. "Where do you want to go, sweetheart?" Hiram asks her gently.

"I need to get away." Is her only response.

"Maybe a summer in Lima is all you need to get over... all of this. What do you say?" Leroy looks at his little star through the rearview mirror.

She smiles at her dads, her heart swelling with love for the two wonderful men. "I think that's a great idea, daddy. Will you take me to the apartment to pick up some clothes?"

Her father nods and pulls away from the cathedral, easily merging into traffic and driving towards the apartment his daughter shared with Brody.

On the way, Rachel pulls out her phone, quickly dialing the number of a friend who would help her move her things out of the apartment she shared with Brody. It will take some time, but she's sure Alexander can get it done before she's back after the summer.

_"Hello, Alexander Damien speaking."_

"Hey X, it's Rachel. I was wondering, could you do me a favor?"

_"Yeah, Rach, sure thing. What do you need?"_ He sounds happy to help her out; she smiles at that.

She had met Alexander in the clothing store he worked at while she was out with Kurt. X, as his friends had dubbed him, was tall with sandy blonde hair and gray eyes, he was built and would've attracted Rachel had he not been surrounded by a true blue gay vibe.

Kurt and him had immediately hit it off, talking fashion, boys, hair, boys, skin care and boys. She had been surprised when the two had immediately denied liking each other in a romantic way and how they couldn't possibly imagine each other as boyfriend and boyfriend seeing the close bond they had formed in just 2 minutes.

She smiles at the memory. "Could you meet me at my apartment? I'll explain everything there."

_"Yeah, I'll be there in ten."_

"Thanks, X. See you in a few."

Hanging up, she looks back up and notices her fathers are unusually quiet. She waits a second before sighing and telling them what they so obviously wanted to know.

"I called Alexander to help me move my things out of the apartment while I'm in Ohio. That way I don't have to come back and go through all the irritating questions Brody will surely ask. I'll temporarily move back in with Kurt while I look for other places." Seeing them nod, she falls quiet again, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.

She feels a numbing tiredness seep into her bones, and an impatience at the thought of relaxing in Lima with her fathers.

Smiling at that picture, she relaxes into the seat of the car as New York whizzes by her window.

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**Okay... First chapter out... don't expect regular updates, you know this. I'm starting school back up on Monday, so... yeah**

**Shoot me a review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter up. Next will be Rachel arriving in Lima and a meeting with a blast from her past.**

**Thanks for the reviews, faves and follows, it means a lot.**

**So... Enjoy.**

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After all the drama of the almost Brochel wedding, the ride to Rachel's apartment is relaxing and nice, the silence welcomed by all three passengers.

Sitting in the back, the tiny starlet chews on her lower lip as thoughts of what she'll do in Lima start to float around her brain. Those thoughts had plenty of space for there wasn't much to do in Lima.

She's brought around to reality when her dad calls out to her that they had arrived. Looking out of the window she sees X's black Ford Lobo, her other best gay sitting inside waiting for them to get there.

Walking up to the door, she raps her knuckles against the frame of the window. A smiling X turns to look at her, his smile diminishing when he sees her in her wedding dress with Brody nowhere in sight.

"Rach, what happened? Where's Brody?" He asks, climbing out of the car. She internally smiled at his question. He had always been against Brody, even voicing it out loud a couple of times once the wedding arrangements had started. But even through his dislike of the guy, X had loyally stood by her side through everything, never once questioning her choices or trying to convince her to change her mind.

Sadly, she smiles. "For reasons that I'll shall explain in due moment, I couldn't go through with the wedding." She replies vaguely.

X assents slowly, leaving the matter to die. He turns to the work at hand. "What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to spend the summer in Lima with my fathers; in the meantime I need you to take all my things -clothes, makeup, electronic devices, accessories, everything- to Kurt's place. Now, since I'm sure you want to know what happened for me to not be Mrs. Weston right now," he nods and she smiles at his predictability, "you can catch up with me in Lima once you're done here. And bring Kurt. But please, don't tell Brody..."

"Tell Brody what?" Questions a male voice.

They turn to find the man himself, still in his tux and replacing his aggressive confusion mask with an inquisitive one. He slowly moves his eyes from Rachel to X, hoping for someone to answer his question.

"Well? I'm waiting. Don't tell me what?"

Rachel soon regains her ability to talk and move, and she turns to X. "Just do as I've asked you, X. I'll explain everything once you rejoin me." The pair move toward the door of the building, where Leroy and Hiram had been waiting for their daughter to finish filling in Alexander.

Brody tries to push himself between Rachel and X, a failed feat when he's intercepted by the Berry men. "It's my apartment, too. You can't keep me out!" He argues.

"While that may be true," Hiram begins.

"We don't want you to get your hands all over our daughter." Leroy continues, his gaze a cool 0°.

"Something obviously possible in such a confined space." Hiram points out, his arms folded in front of his chest.

"So were not letting you in while she's in there." Leroy finishes.

Brody huffs before trying to push his way past them both, but Leroy has a few inches on him and is far more built than him. So his attempts are futile.

"Don't make me subdue you, boy. Because I will. This may not be Lima, but I'm still a police officer and I'm still called on to do my job if the necessity arises." Leroy warns before leveling Brody with an intimidating gaze.

Accepting that he's not getting inside for the time being, Brody takes a seat on the building's steps, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him.

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**In the apartment**

Rachel and X walk through the threshold and the tiny brunette quickly moves past the small kitchenette with adjoining living room, flying through the door of the bedroom.

Hauling out a suitcase from the closet, she starts putting clothes inside. Shirts, jeans, skirts, dresses, underwear, socks, and shoes make it in before she's moving on to the toiletries. Her shampoo and conditioner, her body lotion and moisturizer, her deodorant and perfumes, her pills and some feminine towels; it all goes in the bag before she's closing it and, albeit reluctantly, handing it to X.

Turning before she's out of the door, Rachel roughly tugs her engagement ring off, leaving a reddening skin patch on her knuckle. Placing it one his bedside table, she reaches into the drawer and pulls out a skimpy red lace pair of panties.

She had given it to him when he had insisted on something intimate of hers for when he felt lonely and needed some comfort. Surely she would've given him a shirt of hers or a sweater, but he had seen the panties and had asked, borderline demanded, that she give him those.

So she had.

But now, she's taking them back. _He doesn't deserve them... I don't even know what he wanted them for. And I don't want to think about it._

She puts them in a side bag of her suitcase, planning to wash them as soon as she got to Lima.

"Alright, X. Here's the list of all my things, that you'll move to Kurt's place. Now, Brody will try to find out where I am. Under no circumstances can you tell him where I am. I don't want to see him, I don't want to hear from him, absolutely nothing, X." She rubs her forehead, exasperated, then starts to rummage around her purse. "I give you full permission to use force should he try to stop you from doing as I've asked you. Oh, and here's my key since he probably won't let you in." She hands it to him, watching as he places it in his front left pocket.

Walking out of the building with X behind her, carrying her suitcase, she finds her fathers standing guard at the door with Brody sitting at the front steps.

Hearing the door open, Brody turns and stands as he sees Rachel. "Rachel, please, tell me what happened to make you change your mind. We were so happy together, we were gonna have a family. Yesterday you were more than excited for the wedding to be over so we could go to France for our honeymoon. I'm seriously clueless as to what could've changed your mind from yesterday to today." He rants, his pleading eyes locking with Rachel's indifferent gaze.

"You're a great actor, Brody. Too bad I've learnt to recognize it better as of late. Goodbye." She walks past him with her fathers and X acting as her guards.

X places the suitcase in the trunk of the Berry's red Toyota Corolla before hugging the tiny diva farewell. "I'll catch up with you, Rach. I want to know what happened here."

She nods before she gets into the car with her fathers and they drive away to Lima, leaving behind the pain of her broken dream in New York.

* * *

**In Lima**

"Blue 19, blue 19. Ready! Hut, hut!" He clasps the football between his hands taking a couple of steps back before locking eyes with a blue gaze.

He throws the ball and punches the air as he sees his intended receiver catch the ball and run towards the "goal" line.

"Way to go, Justin. That was a beautiful catch," he praises the blonde-haired teen.

"Thanks, but I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one that said '_keep an eye on the ground, an eye on the ball and an arm against your opponent_'." The boy chuckles at what he had been taught.

The thrower looks around before turning and yelling, "Heads up, Paul!" Another blonde, a dirtier blonde, head turns as he hears his name being called and reaches his hands up just in time for the ball to fall perfectly into them.

Pumping his fist, the 'quarterback' runs up to the receiver and high fives him. "Nice catch, bruh!" The other boy smiles and hands the ball back.

Playing with the pigskin, he hears a yell behind him. He turns and smiles, before running back a few steps and throwing the ball with all the strength in his body.

He chuckles with wonderment as the figure has to run to catch up with the ball, that has passed him while flying in the air. He '_whoops!_' as the guy catches the ball. He hears his sentiments being agreed with behind him, where the boys are also hollering.

He sees the man run up to reach him, before he spreads his arms and engulfs him in a hug.

"Dammit, Puck! It's been way too long. You and Evans seriously need to come up to visit be more often!" He smiles at his Mohawked friend.

"Aw, c'mon Q! One ticket to come up from Cali is worth all my internal organs plus Sam's, and that's just the ticket to fly one of us here. Let's not talk about the one to fly back!" Puck laughs as he watches a sarcastic smile taking over Quinton's face.

"Well, you two better get selling them organs, dude! I'm able enough to live here without you guys, but I get nostalgic. I need to see my homies, man, so it's your job to get your Californian asses up here to see me!" They laugh at that, holding their guts before Quinton huffs as he's tackled to the ground.

"Holy fuck, brother! Don't ever leave me with Puck like that again! I couldn't stand it, I think I would've committed suicide had Puck not told me we were coming to visit for the whole summer!" An excited voice shouts in Quinton's face as the blonde tries to breath.

"Sam! I can't breathe!" He rasps.

"Oh, right!" They both stand up before hugging each other properly.

"This is gonna be the best summer ever!" Quinton yells, piping his arms in contentment. Sam and Puck, along with the boys, shrug before following his example.

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**Alright. Leave a comment, I'll try to fire out the next chapter as soon as I can (no promises, though).**

**Let me just point this out: Sam is gay and Puck is basically pansexual.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Alrighty, sorry for the delay. It was kinda hard to crank out this chapter with everything that has been going on with my academic life and my work... But, we're good now!**

**Rachel explodes in this chapter. Next chap, we're back to Brody, may introduce Quinton more fully, but that also may be til chap 6.**

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When Rachel awakes, she's on her bed, no longer in her outdoor clothes but in her comfortable pajamas, which, really, were just a pair of shorts and a tank top.

She looks at the clock on her bedside table, the red LED lights hurting her eyes in the dark of the room. _2:38 in the morning_, she thinks as she strives to fully wake.

The moon showers the floor in front of the window in a sparkling silver light, the tree branches dancing with the wind, their leafy dresses rustling about.

Rachel gets out of the bed, and slowly, sleepily, walks to the door. Opening it quietly, she shuffles down the stairs and into the kitchen. _A glass of warm soy milk should do the trick of ensuring I go back to sleep_.

She takes out the carton of soy milk, reaching into one of the cupboards and pulling out a tall glass. She pours the milk until it's an inch from the rim and places the liquid in the microwave, heating it for 30 seconds and putting the milk carton back in the fridge.

As she turns, her eye catches a blue sticky note on the floor. Placing her drink on the counter, she bends down to pick up the note. Her eyes scan quickly over the ink scrawled on it, her brow furrowing lightly.

_Mr. and Mr. Berry,_

_Tomorrow, May 19, would be a great day for me to take a look at your car. I'll come around at about 11 in the morning, but I know you'll probably be at work by that time, so if you could please leave the keys in the car, and leave it unlocked, it'd be much appreciated._

_Thank you,_

_Q. Fabray_

She finishes reading the note and sticks it firmly on the fridge door, picking up her milk glass and walking back up to her room. She places her glass on the bedside table, getting herself comfortably inside the covers before picking the warm, somnolent potion and sipping it slowly.

She feels her eyes droop and places the now empty glass on the woody surface of the table, and before her head hits the pillow, she's already in Dreamland, Sleeping County, REM state, population: her.

-Quinton-

His body startles him awake, his eyes shooting open and frantically looking around. He runs his hands over his face, his shorts sticking uncomfortably to his legs, sweat drenching his sheets.

His back tingles in remembrance, and he subconsciously moves a hand to the small of it, where he feels a faintly rugged ribbon of skin.

_It had all felt so real_, he thinks, his breathing slowing down, his heart calming as his brain catches onto the fact that it had all been a nightmare. He shakes his head as memories of metal crushing metal, of glass breaking and the pain, the searing pain in his back, all memories of his accident flood back into his head.

_It's all good now, that stuff's in the past. You can walk again, and although you're sometimes in pain, you must remember you're a survivor. You're a fighter, Quinton_. His mother's words as his eyes looked into hers, news of his successful surgery filling his heart with renewed hope and joy.

It has been seven years since that fateful day, and Quinton still thinks about all the 'what if's of it.

He turns over onto his stomach, pulling the sheet all the way to the small of his back, covering the scar that there resides, and goes straight to sleep.

-in the morning-

Waking up to the sound of the doorbell ringing and then three forceful knocks on the door, Rachel springs up and turns to look at the clock.

11:02 a.m.

"Is there anybody in there? Hello? I'm here to look at the car." A vaguely familiar voice reaches Rachel's ears and she frowns. _If this is the Fabray person from the note, why do they sound so familiar? I don't know anyone with that surname_.

She pulls on a robe and goes to answer the door.

Trough the opaque glass on the door, she can see a tall figure shuffling about.

Tugging the door open, her eyes rest upon an awkward looking Finn Hudson, whose face lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees her. "Hey, Rach! I didn't know you were here!" He hugs her, and all she can do is pat him on the back as his arms tighten around her waist and back.

"How've you been? What're you doing here?" He asks her as soon as she's out of his arms.

Rachel smiles with difficulty before answering, "I've been better, Finn. As for my reason to be here, I'm just '_running away from the cheating bastard that I would've called a husband_'spending the summer."

He nods, his face morphing into one that's supposed to be charming but really, he just manages to look like he has to go take a massive dump. "I was wondering... if you're going to be staying here the summer, why don't we meet up some time? Spend a couple of days together, you know?"

_I can't believe that he's asking me out after all the Cali-NY drama he put us through. He didn't even make it to California!_ She thinks before shooting him down, "I'm sorry, Finn, but I'm just looking to relax and spend quality time with my fathers."

He frowns, but before replying, trying to be nonchalant. "Right, sure. But you know, if you ever want to hang out, you know where to find me, yeah?"

The tiny brunette nods and he turns back to the matter at hand. "I'm here to take your car to the shop and take a look at it; apparently, it's been making weird noises."

She's taken aback by his statement. "In the note my daddy showed me, it said that a person by the surname Fabray was going to come for it."

"Yeah, Q was supposed to be here instead of me, but he called in, said he was indisposed. So I took it upon myself to come instead." Pride has never looked good on Finn, and right now it's not an exception.

Going back into the house, Rachel picks up the car keys and hands them to him, watching as the tall man gets into the car and slowly pulls out of the driveway, disappearing down the road.

Walking back inside, she decides to get her day going the right way, since seeing Finn again left her with a kind of bad taste in her mouth.

She sets off to make herself breakfast, smiling internally as she sees her fathers have stocked the fridge with vegan products to meet her dietary needs.

She eats, finally bringing herself around to thinking about what to do with the whole Brody dilemma. _I'm not going back to him, obviously, but he needs to know that he's not welcomed into my life anymore. But I also need to make him pay for what he did to me for God-only-knows how long. But more of that later. Right now, it's a shower and then out to reacquaint myself with my hometown._

She runs up the stairs, her mind now wondering about that Q Fabray character. The note has yesterday's date on it, must be something quite big to indispose him so quickly.

She showers and changes into matching black bra and panties, a dark red top and a pair of jeans, which hug all her curves just right. Her Nikes adorn her feet; she hadn't wanted to scuff her most expensive heels on the deteriorated roads of Lima, so she had opted to bring more sneakers than dress shoes.

Leaving a note for her dads in case they came back before she did, she walks out of the house and starts walking, the cool May breeze tickling her cheeks and rearranging her dark hair.

The roads are just as Rachel remembers them, although a few of them have a couple more potholes and cracks than they did when she was 18.

She comes up to a park she used to frequent as a kid and smiles fondly at the memory of when she fell forward from the swing and skinned both knees and wrists. She had quietly sobbed on her dad's shoulder as her daddy cleaned and disinfected the wounds before bandaging them and kissing them better.

As she walks, she hears alternating footfalls: heavy and stealthy. As if the person walking had a limp... or were in reality two people.

"Hey, sexy. What is a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?" A deep voice drawls behind her.

She turns and sees two guys. One is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, the thick strip of hair on his head giving him a very sexy edge; his companion was lean but strong, blond hair flopping around his head. His lips look like they were sucked into a vacuum cleaner.

"I'm just breathing in the memories that this park brings me, thank you. And you?" She inquires.

They look at each other, before the blond answers, "We're not from around here, so we just thought we'd take a look at the place."

"And what brings you here, if I may ask?"

The Mohawked man responds this time, "Visiting a friend that we've not seen in a long time."

Tilting her head, Rachel fires another question. "So you're staying the summer here with him? How nice." She smiles.

"Yeah, we're staying until I have to be back home to apply for my classes." The blond lets out easily.

"You go to school? Where?" Rachel looks at the two men, judging what they appear they were good at.

"We're both attending UCLA. He's getting his Associate's in psychology and going for his Master's in Medicine. I got an Associate's in Industrial Engineering, a Master's in Finance, going for a Master's in Business." Hazel eyes stare at her own, before shooting the question back at her.

"I'm wasn't in school for the degree. I'm on Broadway, you see, so I had no need for a diploma, as good as it may look on my résumé." _Honesty is the best policy_, she thinks.

"So you live in New York? What are you doing here?"

She looks down at her feet. _So much for honesty_. "Yeah, I live in New York. As for why I'm here, they're personal reasons."

They nod.

She looks around before gasping. "How rude of me, my apologies. I'm Rachel Barbra Berry, nice to meet you." She extends her hand, a smile on her face.

"Sam Evans, a pleasure." He takes her hand, smiling back at her.

"Noah Puckerman, Puck to my friends, at your service." He shakes her hand gently but firmly.

"Charmed." She smiles, before her phone gets her attention. "One second." Tapping the answering icon, Rachel puts the device by her ear, "Hello, this is Rachel Berry."

"_Rachel?_" Her blood turns cold in her veins as the person on the other end speaks.

"What do _YOU_ want?! Why are you calling me?!" Ire seeps through her salivary glands and her vocal chords, tainting her voice and making Puck and Sam take a couple of steps away from her.

"I want to know where you are, babe." Rachel scrunched up her nose as she could basically smell the alcohol on his breath. "We're going to get married and have a couple of mini Rachels and Brodys running around. You're going to rock the 'pregnant and barefoot in my kitchen' look. Fuck, I'm getting so hard just thinking about you carrying my babies..."

"Listen to me, you little bastard, I'm never going back to you. I'd rather kill myself than go back to a fucking bastard like you. Don't call me again!" She slams the phone shut, her breathing ragged and her knuckles white from gripping the phone so tight.

"Are you okay?" Sam fearfully asks.

Turning to them and seeing them both flinch, Rachel relaxes. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Her phone rings again and she looks at the caller ID, quickly sending the call to voicemail.

"We know it's rude to ask and we don't mean to pry or anything, but do you maybe want to talk about it? Vent your feelings?" Sam asks, his desire to help her clear in his eyes.

"Yeah, how about we talk it over coffee? My treat." Puck quickly jumps in, also wanting to help this girl who, all of a sudden and completely different to the spitfire they had witnessed moments before, now looks like a lost puppy.

"That'd be great. Thank you." She mumbles, her gaze on the floor, her mind reeling.

Both men walk to Rachel's side, almost guarding her between them. They walk together in amiable silence, Sam and Puck knowing that she needs some space, and Rachel is internally grateful for that.

They reach the Lima Bean, and Puck holds the door open for Rachel and Sam, both of who thank him as they go inside before him.

They sit at a table, Sam besides Rachel to offer her his support, and, after ordering their coffees, Puck sits across from them so she can relate her story with a proper audience.

"The person on the phone is my ex-fiancé. We had been dating for three and a half years before he proposed, to which I accepted." She gulps down a sudden rise in bile at the mere thought of Brody. "I just never imagined that he'd be like that..." Her voice trails off and Sam wraps a secure arm around her shoulders.

"He'd be like what, Rachel?" Puck asks carefully, mindful of the frail state this girl is in.

"A lying, cheating bastard who only cares about himself and the things he likes and believes in. When it was time to choose the type of ceremony we would have, he immediately dismissed my Jewish heritage and decided that we would have a traditional Catholic wedding. When I tried to get him to at least have a rabbi there, he said that we couldn't afford a rabbi. But sure! We could afford all the gold-and-crystal goblets and the monogrammed, polished silverware, the orchestra that would play in the wedding and the after party, the most luxurious hotels for the relatives, _HIS_ relatives, that were coming from out of the city and the limousines that would drive them to the church, to the after party and anywhere else they so wished. All of this while _MY_ family had to bring their own cars and pay the hotels with their hard-earned money. And then he goes and says that all of that was _FAIR_! _HOW IS ANY OF THAT 'FAIR'_? His immediate family has more money than mine. As a whole, they could possibly buy the universe if they wanted to, and yet they have all expenses paid while my family has to pay for everything themselves. What a -"

"Miss?" A waiter interrupts her. Rachel has the grace to blush when she sees that everyone is paying attention to her. "The manager kindly asks for you to lower your voice or we'll be forced to show you out." He states politely.

The tiny brunette with the tomato face nods and smiles her understanding.

The waiter turns and leaves them to their talk.

As soon as Rachel turns back to The table, Puck's phone starts to ring.

_Well we all just wanna be big rockstars,_

_And live in hilltop houses, driving fifteen cars_

_The girls come easy and the drugs come free_

_We'll all stay skinny cause we just won't eat_

Sam laughs at the familiar ringtone, knowing who the caller is. Rachel just smiles as Puck answers.

"Yo, wassup man?... You're at the shop?... I thought you weren't feeling good... Oh, I see... Well, it's understandable, after something like that... Yeah, I remember when Sam explained it to us..." Sam looks up at Puck, moving his head in a silent question. "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder..." Sam nods and Rachel frowns at Puck, who only signs her to drop it. "I still don't get why you work with cars if being in one of those caused you to temporarily... I guess it's all mind over body... Alright, we'll meet you at the shop, man. We got someone we want you to meet." He winks at Rachel.

Puck pays their tab and the trio walks out of the Lima Bean. As they walk, Rachel wonders who they're going to meet in what shop.

Guess she'll find out when they get there.

* * *

**Another chapter done. Hope you enjoyed it.**

**For those of you waiting on all my other stories, fret not, I haven't forgotten them... I just need to organize my thoughts.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Two stories updated, GO ME!**

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Chatting with Sam and Puck as the three drove to the shop, Rachel laughs with Sam's stories about his and Puck's conquests in LA.

"I can't believe you sucked off a banana! Like actual full-on fellatio on a fruit!" Rachel laughs as Puck glares at Sam, who has a smug smile on his face.

"In my defense, the chick I was with thought it was kinky as fuck if I sucked something akin to a dick while she was riding me. It made her come so hard!" He remembers the way the girl clamped around his meat as she came.

"Yeah, I'm sure the banana enjoyed it as well." Sam teases, earning a slap on the head, courtesy of Puck.

"Oh, like you never did something weird because one of your boy-toys asked you too." The Mohawked man quickly defends himself, making Rachel smile impishly and turn to look at Sam.

"I'm not saying I haven't... I'm just saying that you gave a banana a blowjob." The blonde chuckles.

"Oh yeah? Well, do you remember that one time we went to a club..."

"Don't say it!"

"... and you ended up..."

"Puck, I'm warning you!"

"...boning a police officer's donut cause you were so fucking wasted, you couldn't even tell what it was! All you thought was 'hole' and immediately started pounding it!" Rachel howls in laughter as Puck tells the story. "You ended up with cream all over your genitals from how hard you were grabbing that donut, and the cop arrested you for taking his food away!" He turns to Rachel, as Sam is red in the face from embarrassment. "He spent three days in jail. It was supposed to be just one, but I couldn't get the bail money until two days after." He cackles at the memory.

Sam shoulders him, a pout on his face. Puck looks at him and stops laughing. "Alright, Sammy, I'm sorry but you did the same thing, so we're square." Sam nods and Puck tenderly brings him in for a sweet kiss on the lips.

Rachel's heart melts at the sight, sighing. "Are you guys boyfriends?" She raises the nature of their relationship up for questioning.

"We're not boyfriends. We explored our sexuality together when we started college, but we never formalized. We're friends with benefits, we take care of each other's itches if the need were to arise, and every once in awhile, we like to show each other we care with little gestures like the kiss you just saw. We know it doesn't mean what it would mean for any other couple, but for us it means '_I love you, you're special to me, I don't want to lose you and I'll always be here for you_'. But this is only between the two of us." Puck laughs while Rachel smiles at the cute history behind the men she had grown so fond of in less than a day.

"Could you imagine if _he_ did the same thing? Oh, man, I would piss my pants. He'd look so gay." He continues to laugh, his face red from the lack of sufficient oxygen.

"Isn't that a rather hypocritical comment coming from someone who identifies as homosexual?" Rachel huffs.

"No, no, no, now wait a second. I'm not gay, I'm pansexual. So it's not a hypochondriac comment..."

"Hypocritical." Whispers Sam in his ear.

"That too!" He exclaims amidst Rachel's quiet chuckles.

They reach Burt's Tire Shop, the unmistakable sound of _Livin' On a Prayer_ blasting through the speakers and they see Finn there, struggling with a wrench. Puck scoffs at what the tall man was doing before he goes over and tells him how to do it.

"You're not supposed to push downwards on the wrench, you'll break it. You need to keep your weight on your feet and channel it through your body in order to push the wrench with minimal effort." The muscled man explains to Finn, who has a confused look on his baby face.

Finn nods unsure of what Puck has said, and Rachel, seeing the taller brunette's confusion, steps in to dumb it down for him. "Keep yourself straight, with your feet firmly on the ground and it'll be easier to move the wrench."

"Oh! I got it! Thanks, Rach!" He smiles his signature dopey smile at her, making her inwardly roll her eyes.

Both Puck and Sam raise their eyebrows at the goofy-looking guy, before the radio guy gives a brief introduction of the coming song.

Hearing the name of Nickelback's _Rockstar_, they smile at each other and wait for the concert to start.

Rachel smiles at the song, it's one of her daddy's favorites. Her smiles falters a bit as she hears a husky voice singing along to the lyrics.

_I'm through with standing in line to clubs I'll never get in_

_It's like the bottom of the ninth and I'm never gonna win_

_This life hasn't turned out quite the way I want it to be_

_(Tell me what you want)_

From underneath a car, a young man rolls out.

His shortish hair is a sweaty, blonde mess atop his head, the light gray wife beater drenched in sweat and stuck to his deeply chiseled torso. The tank and his old jeans are stained with oil, dirt and what appears to be dry blood. His beat-up black sneakers show signs of being his favorite pair, that albeit their being an eyesore, they were still comfortable and useful.

His left hand sports a row of scraped knuckles, his right hand being fully bandaged.

He keeps on singing,

_I want a brand new house on an episode of Cribs_

_And a bathroom I can play baseball in_

_And a king-size tub big enough for ten plus me_

_(Yeah, so what you need?)_

The man keeps on singing as he stands, cooling his head and cleaning his well-muscled arms with a damp rag. Pulling at his sweat-soaked tank, he inadvertently gives Rachel a good view of strong, toned pectorals and a six-pack carved in pallid marble.

_I'll need a credit card that's got no limit_

_And a big black jet with a bedroom in it_

_Gonna join the mile high club at thirty-seven thousand feet_

_(Been there, done that)_

Rachel is spellbound by this man's voice. It enveloped her and heightened her senses, like a drug without the obvious health-deteriorating side effects.

_I want a new tour bus full of old guitars_

_My own star on Hollywood Boulevard_

_Somewhere between Cher_

_And James Dean is fine for me_

_(So how you gonna do it?)_

Keeping her eyes on this gorgeous specimen of a man, she didn't see Puck and Sam high-fiving conspicuously behind her back. Mission accomplished, they thought.

_I'm gonna trade this life_

_For fortune and fame_

_I'd even cut my hair_

_And change my name_

As he sings, Quinton turns around, catching sight of a beautiful brunette who's looking back at him.

The song fades into the background as they stare at each other.

_Holy fuck, he's/she's gorgeous!_ They think at the same time.

"Wassup, Q-tip? Nice Nickelback concert, by the way." Puck smiles his trademark shark-like grin, and Sam slowly steps away from him, looking fearfully at that grin.

Quinton turns then to his friends, even if a little reluctantly. "You know that song kills me, bro. If it's playing, there's a 100% possibility that I'm going to sing it." He shrugs it off, turning back to Rachel, who is still looking at him with her big doe eyes, biting down on her lip.

"Hi." He greets her quietly, telling closer to her.

"Hello." She responds just as quietly, looking up into his golden eyes.

"Who might you be, beautiful?" Smiling smugly to himself at the rosy dusting on her cheeks.

"I'm Rachel Barbra Berry, and yourself?" God, his eyes are beautiful.

"I'm Lucas Quinton Fabray, at your service." Taking her dainty hand in his calloused one, they both feel the electricity flow between them.

"Hey, Quin... ton. What is going on here?" Finn asks, looking at their joined hands with a look akin to jealousy and suspicion clearly written all over his scruffy baby face.

"I was just introducing myself to Quinton." She says, looking to Finn then back at the blonde man whose hand she still kept captive.

"Yeah, well... Quinton and I have to get back to work. Mrs. Faulkner asked me to get her this car by 5:30 p.m. at the latest. Said she'd pay me_ real good_ if I got her the car before 5:00, so we really need to get on it." Finn makes a poor attempt at making Rachel jealous, which only consists in making Quinton scowl deeply.

"If you had actually done any work, this car would've been finished," he takes a look at Puck's phone, "three hours ago. But no, you had to go and drink those four beers, which basically rendered you useless to operate a car or any of the tools we use here. And then the game was on the TV and you invited your friends over to watch it while I was breaking my back here working on a car I'm not even getting paid fully for." Quinton scoffs at Finn's apathetic face.

"What do you mean, you're not getting fully paid for?" Rachel wonders.

"Don't listen to him, he's lying. I work harder than him and he can't stand it." Finn accuses the shorter blonde.

"Yeah, I heard the University of North Carolina lost 86-102 against West Virginia." Puck comments, hoping to lure Finn out on his lie.

He smirks smugly when the tall oaf takes the bait. "You heard wrong bro, North Carolina won 116 to West Virginia's 97." He smiles with self-satisfaction until he realizes that he just told on himself. "I mean that's... that's what I heard... on the radio..." He hopes they buy that, but...

"The radio wasn't broadcasting that game."

...apparently they don't.

"God, Finn, you haven't changed one bit since high school! You're still the same boy that lives off of other people's hard work. In the days after our breakup, I really had to think about what the hell I saw in you back then. It was a struggle since I found nothing besides the kinda cute dopey look on your face and your leading man potential that were all I actually focused on." Rachel yells at an astounded Finn, who immediately shouts back.

"What _you_ saw in _me_? Rachel, get off your high horse, would you? I'm the one that started dating you; you were nothing, you were a loser that only wished she would be popular so people would take a second look at her. Well, guess _fucking_ what? If I hadn't dated you, no one at school would've given two fucks about you... not that they did, anyways. Face it, I'm the best thing that has ever happened to you, the best thing that will _ever_ happen to you. I'm the only one that will put up with your diva tantrums and your high maintenance bullshit. Had it been anyone else in my shoes, they would've given up on you a long time ago. And I admit it was hard for me to stay with you; you didn't let me touch you, not even after I waited for it for _three_ years, you ate weird crap that tasted like balls and yelled at me for eating good meat, and you always spoke like you had eaten a dictionary and didn't even try to see if I knew what you were talking about. And even after all of that, I still asked you to marry me, I still wanted to build a life with you in California." He shoots back, towering over her with his mammoth-like frame.

Quinton, at one point between all the screaming, had moved to stand between Rachel and Finn, protecting her from him. She screams her retort over his shoulder. "If you didn't even like me, why in the hell did you ask me to marry you?"

"'Cause I knew you would end up alone if I didn't stay with you. And guess what? You have! You've been away for so _fucking_ long and then you suddenly want to come back and visit with your parents?! Are you even _serious_? The only reason why you would come back is because you don't have anyone else back in that stupid city to want to spend more time with you than necessary. You are just a stuck-up bitch who thinks she's better than anyone else when all she really is is just a loudmouth nobody that will die alone because no one loves her!"

_SLAP!_

The sound of skin on skin bring about a tense silence, only broken by the heavy breathing of two people.

Rachel's hand hurts like a bitch from the force applied behind the slap and she's being restrained by Quinton's thickly corded arms around her body. Finn's face shows a red handprint that is sure to swell and bruise by the next morning and Puck and Sam are each waiting to see if Finn will move at all so they can intercept him before things get uglier.

"You're wrong, Finn." Rachel's voice is broken, quiet as tears stream down her face. "If you must know, I'm here because I was going to get married but I discovered some things about the man I would've called a husband. I left him at the altar and now I'm here, healing my broken soul and seeking the comfort of my dads." She sniffles lightly. "But thank you for telling me exactly what you think of me. And to think that I almost married you too... and that you had the nerve to ask me out this morning. You _disgust_ me, Finn Hudson." She spits out before she tugs herself out of Quinton's grip, quietly leaving the shop.

Quinton, Puck and Sam all turn to Finn, who stands there looking ashamed underneath the three men's gazes.

"Not cool dude. You can finish the car yourself." The hazel-eyed blonde snarls at the tallest man before turning to his friends. "I'm going to go look for her, make sure she's alright." He glares at Finn once again before bolting out of the garage.

She couldn't have gotten too far. He thinks but as he gets to end of the street and looks around to see where she could've gone, he doesn't see her anywhere. _Damn! How can someone so short be that fast walking?_ He jogs off to one side, head still whipping back and forth to catch a glimpse of her.

Too focused on his search he is, that he doesn't notice the crack on the pavement in front of him. His foot gets caught and he falls down, hard. He feels the sting of gravel on open skin at his right knee, the heels of his palms, his chin and side of his jaw._ Fuck, that hurt!_ He gets up, dusts himself off, checks the newest rip on his jeans and shrugs, sending the pain on his knee to hell. _They're just my work jeans, anyways._

He starts jogging again, completely undeterred by the burning sensation in his knee.

_I have to find her._

* * *

**Okay, we've introduced Quinton and he's hot as all hell, Finn's an asshole and Sam and Puck are fuck-buddies... what more do you want people?**

**Faberry interaction coming up next chapter. And watch out for Bordy, he'll make a spectacular return.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh-ho-ho-hokay. Sweet. Quick run through: good guy Quinton saves the girl, hurts himself. Here's how it plays out...**

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Rachel wraps her arms around herself, walking in an unknown direction.

When she left the shop, she didn't care where she went, as long as it took her far away from Finn and his scathing words. _You'd think he matured a bit since high school ended,_ she thinks as she keeps on walking.

She spies a bench under a tree and she goes towards it, dusting off the scarce fallen leaves before sitting down and crossing her legs. As she looks around, she notices that she doesn't know where the hell she is. The houses don't look familiar; neither do the cars nor the streets. She doesn't panic, she knows that panicking will not help her to get out of this situation. She breathes and lays her head back, taking another, deeper breath before bringing it back down.

In the distance, she sees two blurry figures. Both tall, dark-haired and lithe, they're walking and talking animatedly a few feet away from her and she sees them taking a seat in a bench not far away from her own.

She closes her eyes, and feels her phone buzz with an incoming text. Lazily, she takes it out of her pocket and looks at the sender.

It doesn't say; it's a private number.

_Here's to hoping it's not Brod_y, she sighs to herself as she clicks the open button.

She groans as she realizes that it is from him. _He's apparently not wasted anymore, but I hope the hangover is kicking him in the nuts._

**Rach, baby, there's something you need to know. Today, after I passed out from sadness and exhaustion, I had a dream. In it, we had a gorgeous baby girl with my hair and eyes and your smile and voice. She was the spitting image of us both. She called me daddy and you were mommy and we were so happy. I think this means that we're meant to be together, so just end this stupid fight you've started (for absolutely no reason, may I add) and come back to New York. And also, tell your stupid friend X to stop moving your stuff out. You're not leaving me. XXX, Brody.**

_Yeah, right, you little prick. I'm not going back to you, nor am I telling X to leave my stuff with you._ She deletes the text and shoves her phone back in her pocket just in time to notice that the two men sitting in the other bench have seen her and are pointing at her.

_Time to go,_ she thinks as red flags come up in her mind. She stands and, as calmly as she can, she starts walking in the direction of the men. _I am not turning my back on them, no way!_ As she strides in front of them, one of them wolf whistles and the other one drawls out, "Hey, babe. Do you like bull-riding? 'Cause I got a big, beefy bull you can take on back at my place." He rearranges himself, slouching on the bench, his eyes dropping to his crotch then up to hers again, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"No, I think l'll pass." She rolls her eyes and keeps on walking before they all out to her again.

"How about a huge, strong stallion? He's a bit of a rough ride, but I assure you, you'll have the time of your life." He drags his words out, his eyes as well as his companion's undressing her as they trace her body.

"No, I, for one, absolutely despise people that abuse animals for their own entertainment, thus I'm not going anywhere with either of you. So you can take your bull and your stallion and shove them up your asses." She storms away from them, ignorant to their deep scowls.

She doesn't get too far before she hears them stomping over to where she is. She yelps as their grimy hands and hairy arms grab and wrap around her, digits clenching around her upper arms and iron hands tightening around her abdomen.

"Sweetie, you don't have to like it, you have to take it. And if you don't want to take it, we'll make you take it. You've given me a boner that could cut glass right about now and you're going to take care of it." The man that's grabbing her arms husks into her ear, licking the shell afterwards.

Rachel tries not to shiver at the slimy contact, but her stomach seizes up when she catches up to what he said.

_Oh, God, no!_

She struggles to get out of their grasp, but only manages to wear herself out in seconds. "Yeah, please struggle. It gets me that much harder to see you fighting back." He chuckles darkly.

From nowhere it seems, she gets the strength to writhe and wriggle even more than the last time. As she moves, her legs are kicking out and one of them makes a solid landing on the quiet man's right knee.

He stumbles a bit and his grasp loosens up on her waist, and she takes that opportunity to headbutt the guy holding her arms. The sound of his nose snapping under her skull reach her ears and his hands leave her arms to hold his broken nose.

"Fucking bitch! I'm going to have a shit-ton of fun breaking you. You'll be my sex slave, my sexy and disobedient little slut and stunts like this will be punished by hours upon hours of vicious gangbanging." He says as he starts to run after her, his friend by his side. "What do you think, Ralph? Do you think this daddy's princess can take serving so much cock? It's what she should be doing anyway, so she'll have to learn fast."

They catch up to her fairly quickly, the guy with the broken nose spinning her around and smacking her across the face. "That is to teach you to respect your future master, slut. Bullshit like that ain't going to fly with me or any of my crew, so better watch the attitude." They grab her again, carrying her between the two of them.

Ralph has got her by her ankles while the other guy has her under her arms. Rachel is still trying to break free, but this position doesn't give her as many chances as standing would've.

"So, wut are we gon' do wit 'er, Tuck? You's jus' gon' tie 'er up an' wait fer the drugs ta kick in?" His accent sounds like he was brought up in the South, and it kinda reminds her of Lenny's from _Of Mice and Men._

"Sort of. We going to tie her up and then I'm going to show her what she's going to be taking care of for the rest of her motherfucking life. _Then,_ we'll drug her and wait for the effects to start up so we can get the party going. Oh, the crew is going to love this one! So _feisty_! We haven't had one like this one since that Penelope whore died." He laughs at that, while Rachel's eyes widen with each passing word and moment.

She closes them momentarily and sends a quick and desperate prayer up to whomever is listening. _Please, please, please, let someone stop them. Please!_ Silent tears fall down her face but neither men notices.

The next thing she notices is her body suddenly become airborne before falling harshly on the hot pavement. Her hand protests painfully at the fall and she opens her eyes to see a strong blonde figure ferociously fighting the two men, and he seems to be winning.

-with Quinton-

_I have to find her._

He runs a few more steps in the same direction before looking around again. The pain in his knee has now lessened to a dull throb but the tingling at the base of his spine is starting to worry him. _The doctor did say not to do anything too hard with my legs._ He skips to start off his run at every moment he can, not wanting too look too childish.

He turns to his left on the fly and keeps on going, his gut now directing him towards the tiny brunette._ I hope I'm going in the right direction,_ he thinks as he keeps on running, his sneakers thumping on the pavement.

He stops and looks around, his head whirling about, damp blonde hair getting in his eyes. With a firm shake of his head, the golden locks are out of his sight but his ears pick up something. The sound of skin on skin, very similar to the sound of Rachel slapping Finn.

Quinton quickly starts jogging in that direction, his gut seizing up with each step he takes.

He turns another left and his eyes find the object of his frantic search, but a snarl takes its place on his face and his eyes blaze Greek Fire as he sees two brutes carrying her away as if she were an animal.

His legs react before his brain can give the order and he's sprinting towards them at high speed. Quinton used to play football when he was in high school, he was the Quarterback so he never actually tackled anyone, but he knew the mechanics behind it. With the momentum he's got from running, he pushes himself towards the man holding Rachel's legs and leaps at him, catching him off guard and pushing his shoulder into a squishy belly.

He doesn't dawdle with the man on the floor; instead he turns and connects a strong right hook on the other man's jaw, knocking him on his ass.

Seeing Rachel on the floor, he goes to help her up but is intercepted by the man he had tackled. The man throws out jabs and swipes with his hands, but Quinton dodges them all, managing to strike his opponent several times in different parts of his body.

As the man reaches out his hands to grab him, Quinton side-steps and kicks him in the gut, bringing his foot back and landing another solid punch on the man's left cheekbone. In a moment of desperation, the man lets his hand fly out wildly, catching Quinton in the face. The hazel-eyed male feels his mouth fill with blood, a deep laceration on the inside of his left cheek hemorrhaging. He successfully catches the next barrage of wild punches, blocking them but not getting an opening for a counterattack. At last he sees it and takes it: he notices the man leaves his chest wide open when he's punching and so waits for a punch to come in order to hit him.

He finds his target. His fist sinks into the spongy spot on his sternum, a bundle of nerves called the solar plexus. The man stumbles backwards, gingerly pressing on the throbbing spot.

So absorbed Quinton is in fighting his closest contender that he doesn't take notice of the other man behind him. That is, until said man behind him jumps onto his back and wraps his hands around the blonde's throat. The young blonde doesn't waste time or air on the man in front of him; he manages to securely hook his own hands on the monkey-man's nape and he pulls with all the strength in his body, flinging him up over his head and down in front of him.

The man lands solidly on his back, winded. His partner puts his hands up in the universal sign of surrender and Quinton backs away from him, moving towards Rachel, who is staring at this blonde god in awe and wonderment... maybe a little bit of arousal as well, but she won't say that.

The still standing man helps his friend regain his feet and the one known as Tuck growls out, looking at Rachel. "You're gonna be my slut, I don't care if I have to kill pretty boy here to get you all to myself. And when I do get you, 'cause I will, you'll take my cock until you pass out and then I'll fuck you while you're unconscious and all my cum is inside you. Maybe you'll get pregnant from me and this little runt won't want you no more. You'll be stuck with me and my crew and we're going to enjoy every second of your tight, young pussy." He spits on the floor at Quinton's feet,

The blonde feels his ire overflowing inside him and goes to take a step forward, but Rachel restrains him. "Keep talking, you little sack of shit. I have no problems or qualms about beating people to a bloody pulp if I have to, especially if they're dirty sewer rats like yourself." He bites out.

"Let it out, pretty boy. I'm sure you don't have the balls to do what I do, you probably can't even satisfy one whore, let alone the countless that I have. So you can keep her, she'll get bored of you soon enough and go look for a man that can take care of her necessities. And that's where I come in. She'll be at my complete beck and call. If I want her against a wall, we'll fuck against the fucking wall; if I say we do it in the living room, she'll pick which piece of furniture to do it on; if I gather my crew, she'll serve each one of us before submitting to me in front of all of them. So try her out, give her a quick spin, you'll have her looking for me in no time." He smirks smugly, before turning to Rachel, who is looking at him with disgust clearly written on her face.

"Oh, don't be like that, princess. You'll get to ride my stallion soon enough. Plus, with some MDMA, coke and meth, I'm pretty sure you'll have the time of your life when I fuck you." He finishes and leaves it at that, flipping Quinton the bird before spinning on his heel and walking away from them, Ralph hot on his heels.

"Asshole!" Quinton bites out, hard to do around a mouthful of swelling cheek and blood.

He spits the coppery warmth out of his mouth, watching as the grass stains red from it, the pavement splattered with the crimson substance.

The blonde turns to Rachel, who is biting her lip and looking at him with melted chocolates orbs through thick, long lashes. "Thank you... for saving me, Quinton. You've only known me for a relatively short amount of time and you've already stepped up for me twice in less than an hour." Her eyes scan his body, catching onto the hole in his jeans and the abused skin of his palm heels and his knee, only then noticing the scrapes he's got on his jawline. "Quinton, what happened to you? I don't think these are from the fight, are they?" She motions to the visibly reddening scrapes.

"No... I... uh... I-I fell." He stutters, all of a sudden nervous, palming the back of his neck as he looked down at his shoes.

"You fell?" She inquires, her tone mocking. "How in the world did you fall?"

The hazel-eyed man snaps his head back up, his defenses up at her jeering tone. "I was looking around for you, I didn't want you to get hurt. You left the shop too quickly so I didn't see where you went, nor did I see where I was going and then I tripped. But God forbid I reach you a second too late or that those guys beat me up, in which either case you would've been kidnapped and forcefully made a whore. So, yeah, you're very welcome." He yells heatedly, quickly striding past her and leaving her very confused.

_What is up with him?_ She thinks as she follows him quietly. Rachel very obviously, yet unbeknownst to her, struck a nerve in the blonde mechanic and had upset him, and now she has to apologize for being insensitive.

As she jogs to catch up with him, she notices a faint disturbance in his gait. Slowly, she comes to the realization that he's limping. _Maybe it's from the fall._ Yet that assumption is quickly striked out when she also catches the faint hip swing he's doing as he walks. _Or maybe it's something else, something that's been aggravated by the fall and the consecutive fight._ She guesses.

She gasps, covering her mouth with her hands when his body gives out beneath him, falling heavily to his knees with a sharp cry of pain before he slumps sideways, taking his dead weight off of his legs.

She runs to where he is laying and her heart breaks when the glistening of welling tears catch her eye. He huffs and puffs, his face red and sweaty with the piercing exertion that his back is flooding his pain receptors with.

"Quinton! What do I do, who do I call? Does it hurt anywhere? Oh my God, are you dying? Help, somebody please help us!" She's alarmed, and with enough of a reason, but Quinton knows what to do.

"Rachel!" He calls her; she turns to him giving him her undivided attention. "First, I need you to calm down, alright? You can't help me if you're as on edge as you are. Second, with extreme care, I need you to extend my legs. The damage is not there, but if they start getting muscle spasms, it's better to have them fully extended. Third, take my phone and call Sam or Puck, the one will tell the other and they both will come. Okay? Have you understood me?" She nods and sets off to do as he said, tenderly pulling his legs to their full length.

Taking his phone out of his pocket, he hands it to her and she speed-dials Sam. "Put it on speaker, I can explain it better." He orders and she assents again.

_"What's going on, Q-ball?"_ His friend's cheery voice replies to the call.

"Sam I am, I'm in a bit of a problem. Is Puck with you?"

_"Yeah, he's right here. Hold on, let me put you on speaker."_ They hear a beep before Sam's voice rings out again, as if it were coming out of a trashcan. _"Alright, bruh, we're both here. How's it going? You find Rachel yet?"_ Puck's voice sounds a little further away than Sam's.

"Yes, Sam, I'm right here and I'm fine." Rachel assures them both.

"But I got a small problem, Sam. When I went out to find Rachel, I took it at a full-out sprint then I fell. Now, I don't think the fall has anything to do with this but I got to tell you everything. Or so you've demanded I do. After, I kept running until I found Rachel. She was being carried away by some guys and I got into a fight with them..."

_"Did you kick ass?"_ Puck's tone gives away the smile on his face.

"Fuck yeah, I did, dude. Those guys didn't even know what hit them." Quinton's smile, most likely, matches Puck's.

_"Let's not stray from the point. You got into a fight, and?"_ Sam's medical professionalism comes out to help his friend out.

"By that point, I was already feeling a bit tingly on the small of my back..."

_"And you sent that to hell."_

"Basically. So now I'm laying in the middle of a park splattered in someone else's blood. How quick can you get here?"

_"Depends where here is..."_ Puck makes a remarkably good point.

"We're at the park on Northridge avenue, between Lyndon B. Johnson road and 31st street." Rachel quickly spews out the address.

_"We'll be there in fifteen. Stay on the line so if anything happens, Rachel, tell me with excruciating detail."_

"Got it."

* * *

**Don't you just love Quinton? He's awesome!**

**Shoot me up with a review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Second update and I'll use this to tell you guys: my dad is visting for a couple of days, I haven't seen him in a year (19, almost 20, years old and I'm still a daddy's girl, sue me) so I'm really stoked about it. I'm not going to be able to update while he's here since I got basically nothing written down but I will be writing in my spare time... while I'm not spending time with him... which will pretty much be at night. So this is me compensating for that.**

**For those of you that read Resist Temptation, I will work on somewhat of a background story and the following orgy chapter. Don't fret.**

**We've got some Quinton background story, the reason why his legs are shit... and you guys are going to love this tatted-up Russell. He's the shit!**

**The song is 1985, the Bowling for Soup version. And only Hanna is mine, nothing else.**

* * *

Sitting with Quinton in the middle of that park, Rachel chews on her lip, wanting to ask why the blond was so mad and what happened to his legs.

"Spit it out, Rachel, I know you want to ask." Quinton sighs heavily.

"First off, I'm sorry for making fun of you about falling. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay, I'm going to put it up as you wanting to make light of a traumatic situation. I shouldn't have snapped at you like I did, I apologize about that." Quinton quickly dismisses Rachel's rude mockery.

"What happened to your legs?" Rachel asks after nodding her acceptance to Quinton's apology.

"I was sixteen, I lived in California back then. My father was -still _is_- a good-for-nothing drunk that only cares about how high he can take his blood-alcohol level before he passes out. One night, he drove out of town and got so wasted, he didn't even recognize my voice when I called him. My mother was working the night shift at a local Macy's, she was the general manager, so she couldn't go pick him up from wherever shithole he was in, so I took on that responsibility and drove from our house in Stockton to his location out in Sacramento." He cuts his tale to laugh humorlessly. "It's ironic, really. I went to pick up one drunk when another one T-bones my car at a crossroads between the freeway I was in and the highway he was coming from. My car got totaled, the firefighters could do almost nothing to get me out, I had two cardiac arrests on the way to the hospital and went into a coma that same night. I came out of it two weeks later with no real recollection of what had happened and no feeling in my legs. The doctors said that the problem was in the small of my back, that the vertebrae there had been compressed which was causing the nerves that run from my back to my legs to become unresponsive, which meant I couldn't walk. I hated my father for doing that to me and the other driver for being behind the wheel while shitfaced, who was sent to prison for driving under the influence and reckless endangerment; if I had died in that accident, he would've been locked up with involuntary manslaughter. I had to use a wheelchair for quite some time while I attended physical therapy to get my legs working again. It was painful. I don't like to remember that part of my life. After I was discharged, I saw the newspaper clippings, I got harassed by news people wanting to get a live interview with the boy who almost died trying to get to his father, and although my brain saw the images and knew that it had been me, my memory just seemed to skip over it. For three years after the incident, I couldn't get into a car without having a panic attack. I had to be sedated whenever we had to take the car to go somewhere. After I got out of my wheelchair, I transitioned to a cane, which I still use. After I got my Associate's in Mechatronic Engineering, my mom and I moved up here to get away from my father, whom my mom had divorced shortly after my accident. About six months after our move here, she met Russell Fabray and they went out, got pretty serious and about a year and a half after, they got married. It doesn't matter to Russell that I'm not his son or that I don't look like him, he loves my mother and he loves me and I love, respect and look at him as if he were my dad. My last name wasn't Fabray but I legally changed it because that last name means something to me, unlike Roberts, which is my biological father's last name. I am proud to call him my dad just as he is proud to call me his son." Quinton finishes and uses his thumb to wipe the stray tears that fall from Rachel's big brown orbs.

The tiny brunette lays beside him and wraps her arms around him, embracing him as he does the same. "Don't cry, please don't cry. It's a really crappy story but it has its happy ending. Please don't cry." The blonde man sooths the Broadway starlet, and his phone comes to life, Sam's voice coming out from the speakers.

_"Alright, we're at the park but we can't see you guys. Can you give us some sort of signal or sound to let us know where you guys are?"_

_"Or if you guys are fucking?"_ Puck's voice makes the pair laugh quietly.

"Sure thing, man. One second." Quinton replies.

Rachel winks at him and opens her mouth. The sound that pours out of it makes the mechanic's heart skip a beat and a smile appear on his face. He decides to do the backup vocals.

_I'm through with standing in line to clubs I'll never get in_

_It's like the bottom of the ninth and I'm never gonna win_

_This life hasn't turned out quite the way I want it to be_

_(Tell me what you want)_

They both smile and keep on singing when they hear rapidly approaching footsteps.

_I want a brand new house on an episode of Cribs_

_And a bathroom I can play baseball in_

_And a king-sized tub big enough for ten plus me_

_(Yeah, so what you need?)_

They stop when they see Puck and Sam arriving to their place on the park's paved floor. Sam immediately goes into doctor-mode dropping to his knees right beside the hazel-orbed man's legs.

"Alright, Q, let me take a quick look at you. As usual, if anything hurts, point it out to me." Sam starts applying gentle pressure on the laying blonde's knee, his digits digging around for something out of the ordinary. The licensed doctor finds nothing on his knee and so he moves his search lower, dexterous fingers feeling the former quarterback's highly developed calves. When that proves to be futile, Sam moves higher up, prodding and squeezing Quinton's beefy quads. Rachel blushes furiously as she realizes that Sam is getting dangerously close to Quinton's crotch, and, as if the blonde doctor knew what she had been thinking, he speaks. "Don't get too excited here, bruh, you know I got to do it."

Quinton shrugs, not giving it the least importance.

Sam's fingers are now digging in the space where Quinton's legs attach to the pelvis, and he hits a really sore spot for Quinton flinches away from him. "We found it." Sam announces proudly. "Now, which side is it?" He gently prods the right side and gets a head-shake from Q, then goes to the left side and prods just as gently, looking for the spot that made Quinton grimace.

The mechanic flinches again and breathes deeply when Sam presses two fingers on a spot just off the left side of the navel. "And there we are. Well good news, your legs stopped responding because of the run you took off at, not because anything's wrong with your spine. Both the doctor and the physical therapist told you to take it real easy with your legs; that if you wanted to run, you started off at a slow jog, gradually picking up the pace. Not going from 0 to 60 in under three seconds. You're not Usain Bolt." Sam says with a smile as Quinton nods.

"Now, your legs are going to take their sweet time getting back to work at full potential, your body's way of saying you fucked up and now we're gonna fuck you up for fucking us up. So it's going to be a vicious fuck cycle, where you fuck yourself and yourself fucks you right back."

"That's a lot of fucking..." Trust Puck to only get the sex explanation.

"Yeah, yeah, why aren't my legs responding?" Quinton cuts to the chase.

Sam and Puck look at each other until the blonde answers. "You overworked yourself and now your legs are demanding a rest."

"How the hell am I going to leave, then?"

Puck smirks before bending down and swinging an unhappy Quinton over his shoulder. "Let me go, Puckerman! You are _not_ carrying me!" The blonde struggles against his buff friend's hold but gets no results.

"Now, now, Fabray. I can leave you here and you'd have to literally crawl over to your house, but I'm being nice instead and giving you a lift for free. So don't complain!" Puck huffs.

Rachel holds in a giggle at the childishly miserable look on the hazel-eyed blonde's face.

"Oh, come on, Q. Don't fucking pout, I'm just taking you to the car where I'm going to lay you down and we'll take you to your house. Once there, Russell can fight with you all he wants but I'm not carrying you again..." Puck says, walking towards Sam's metallic blue X-Trail and opening the back door, swinging Quinton carefully over his shoulder and into the seat.

The blonde crawls back, making space for Rachel in the backseat. He pushes the lock on the door he's backed against and smiles at the brunette that sits in front of him. Once she has snapped the seatbelt in place, the Broadway starlet looks up and flashes a smile at the blonde, who grins back at her before turning to Sam. "Dude, crank out the radio. I need some tunes."

Sam turns on the radio and the car is quickly filled with the intro to Bowling for Soup's _1985_.

_Woohoohoo_

_Woohoohoo_

"Aw, yeah, bruh! This is what I'm talking about!" Puck hollers before he starts singing along with Jaret Reddick.

_Debbie just hit the wall_

_She never had it all_

_One Prozac a day_

_Husband's a CPA_

Sam bangs his head along and picks up where Puck left off.

_Her dreams went out the door_

_When she turned 24_

_Only been with one man_

_What happened to her plan?_

Quinton cuts in, singing with a smile on his face.

_She was gonna be an actress_

_She was gonna be a star_

_She was gonna shake her ass_

_On the hood of Whitesnake's car_

Rachel couldn't be left out so she starts singing as well.

_Her yellow SUV_

_Is now the enemy_

_Looks at her average life_

_And nothing. Has been. Alright since_

The four bang their heads along with the music and their voices mix in the chorus.

_Bruce Springsteen, Madonna_

_Way before Nirvana_

_There was U2 and Blondie_

_And music still on MTV_

_Her two kids in high school_

_They tell her that she's uncool_

_Cause she's still preoccupied_

_With 19, 19, 1985_

_Woohoohoo_

_1985_

_Woohoohoo_

Sam and Puck took on the next verses, the Mohawked man doing air-guitar as they sang.

_She's seen all the classics_

_She knows every line_

_Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink_

_Even St. Elmo's Fire_

_She rocked out to Wham_

_Not a big Limp Bizkit fan_

_Thought she'd get a hand_

_On a member of Duran Duran_

Quinton and Rachel team up to show the other two men how dueting is done.

_Where's the mini-skirt_

_Made of snakeskin?_

_And who's the other guy that's singing on Van Halen?_

_When did reality_

_Become TV?_

_Whatever happened to_

_Sitcoms_

_Game shows_

_On the radio?_

All four sang the choir again, with Quinton now doing air-guitar while Puck switched to the drums.

_Springsteen, Madonna_

_Way before Nirvana_

_There was U2 and Blondie_

_And music still on MTV_

_Her two kids in high school_

_They tell her that she's uncool_

_Cause she's still preoccupied_

_With 19, 19, 1985_

_Woohoohoo_

Quinton motions for everyone to stop singing so he can take on the solo.

_She hates time_

_Make it stop_

_When did Motley Crue become classic rock?_

_And when did Ozzy_

_Become an actor?_

_Please make this_

_Stop_

_Stop_

_Stop!_

_And bring back_

All four exploded with the chorus again, having the time of their lives in that car.

_Springsteen, Madonna_

_Way before Nirvana_

_There was U2 and Blondie_

_And music still on MTV_

_Her two kids in high school_

_They tell her that she's uncool_

_Cause she's still preoccupied_

_With 1985_

_Woohoohoo_

_Bruce Springsteen, Madonna_

_Way before Nirvana_

_There was U2 and Blondie_

_And music still on MTV_

_Her two kids in high school_

_They tell her that she's uncool_

_Cause she's still preoccupied_

_With 19, 19, 1985_

Finishing that song, they all laugh and keep on laughing until they reach Quinton's house, where a greasy and grimy Russell Fabray is tuning and checking up on a shiny black 1969 Impala. He turns to them when he hears the grinding of the pavement under the car's wheels.

He's a very good-looking man, even if he is already in his mid-50s. He's wearing jeans and a black wife-beater with beat up sneakers. _Now I know where Quinton got his mechanic getup from._ Rachel thinks with a small smile. Wavy blonde hair with a few stray gray hairs and sparkling blue eyes, Russell could very well be Quinton's biological father.

Russell raises an arm in salutation when he sees that it's Sam driving the car. From her vantage point, Rachel can see something black on the inside of the man's wrist. _Must be grease from the car._

Sam pulls up on the driveway, besides the Impala, and starts to turn off the car when a blaring honk makes all five of them jump. "Ow!" Quinton mumbles as he gingerly holds the crown of his head, where he smacked it against the oh-shit handle*.

"The fuck was that?" Puck is the first one to speak and the first one to get out of the car, turning in all directions to find the source of their scare from hell.

His shoulders sag as a defeated scowl takes over his face. "Quinton, your... _number one fan_ is here." He gets out through gritted teeth and Quinton's head drops, a quiet 'no' reaching the brunette's trained ears.

"Who is it?"

Quinton groans. "It's this _girl _that can't seem to take a no for an answer. She's been asking if I have a girlfriend, if I'm married, if I'm a _virgin_, and a load of other things ever since my mom and I moved here. When I said that I didn't have anyone she started to actively, obsessively pursue me, even going as far as stealing my phone and getting my number, taking pictures of me and going around showing them to her friends saying I'm her boyfriend. The police have showed up several times asking about this supposed relationship..."

"...the police?" A brunette eyebrow goes up.

"She's 15." He runs a hand down his face tiredly.

"15?" Is the next inquiry.

"Yeah. And I've told the cops time and again that I have nothing going on with her, that all the things going around are just rumors spread by her and her friends." Quickly, he pulls out his phone and sends a text to Sam, whom this girl couldn't see.

**If she asks for me, LIE TO HER. I don't care what you say, just don't tell her I'm here. -Q**

He presses send, his breathing becoming a little bit irregular, and in seconds he's got his response.

**What should I tell her? -SamIAm**

**Anything. Think on your feet. -Q**

He puts his phone on the seat, in the space between his knees. Quinton sees his father looking inside the car from his spot besides the Impala and the younger blonde shakes his head. Russell imperceptibly nods and turns to Puck and Sam.

Turning back to Rachel, Quinton puts a finger to his lips in the universal sign of 'be quiet' and the woman nods.

They hear the locks click as the car is closed by Sam's remote. They hold their breaths.

Then Rachel sees her.

For a 15 year old, the girl is very nicely developed. Nice sized chest, long legs, curves in all the right places; pair that up with long strawberry blonde hair, fair skin and shiny grey eyes and the girl is a knockout. Any boy would kill to get with her.

Rachel hears her voice, velvety smooth. "Hi Mr. Fabray, hi Sam. _Puck_." The way she says Puck's name makes Rachel flinch slightly.

"Hi, Hanna. How are you doing?" Russell is ever polite, even though he knows what this girl has put his son through.

"I was just going to meet some friends at the Lima Mall and then to the movie theater, I wanted to see if Q-bear wanted to go with me?" The answer seems simple enough, a friend wanting to hang with another friend, but the fact that she's 15 and he's 25 added on to the fact that she's interested in him make it look completely fishy. "So is he in?"

"No. He's not." Sam is quick with the reply. "We also came to see if he wanted to play some flag football with us down at the high school but Russell was kind enough to tell us that he went to the shop today and that he hasn't come back." Quinton smiles in relief, but it's quickly wiped away when he hears Hanna again.

"Oh, well I'm going to look for him at the shop."

Hastily, Quinton dials Sam and the doctor, impassive as always, answers it. "Wassup ,Q?"

"Sam, she can't go to the shop. I don't trust Finn in the least, especially if he's got jailbait near. That boy is very unpredictable. Tell her I went somewhere else."

"Quinton, you sly dog. Alright, I'll tell your parents. No, bruh, don't worry about the flag football, we can ask Paul and Justin if they'd like to tag along. Alright, dude, see ya." Sam hangs up and lifting his phone to Russell, he lies. "That was Quinton, he said that a girl showed up with a scratched car. She explained that it was her dad's car, she had borrowed it briefly to go run some errands and when she came back out, it was scratched on the side. So she asked if he could do some quick paint job to cover up the scratch and he said sure but only if he could take her out to dinner." Sam smiles.

"That's my bro, dude's got game." Puck whoops and Russell laughs at that.

Quinton facepalms while Rachel holds in a giggle.

"So that's where he is right now. He had some spare clothes in his bag, cleaned up and changed at Burt's and then went to pick her up. Said he might not come back home tonight." Sam wiggles his eyebrows and Puck smirks.

Hanna, though, is red with fury and embarrassment. "I'll call him myself." She says, taking out her phone and angrily dialing Quinton's number.

Inside the car, the phone vibrates and the name pops up on the screen. _Mrs. Hanna Fabray._ "Let it ring." Rachel suggests and Quinton nods.

Hanna hangs up when she gets the answering machine. _Hi, you've reached Lucas Quinton Fabray. I can't pick up at the moment, but leave a message stating your name and business with me and I'll get back to you when I can. *Beep*_

Huffing, she tries again and again she gets the voicemail. "If she calls again, I'll answer it." Rachel tells him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm not an actress for nothing." She gives him a toothy smile.

The phone rings again, and Rachel waits for it the third ring to pick up, modifying her breathing and lowering her voice to a smoky, husky tone. "Hello?" She answers breathlessly.

Outside the vehicle, Hanna is gaping at the female voice that comes from the other side of the line.

"Hello? Who is this?" Rachel bites her lip to hold back a chuckle.

"Um, hi. I'm looking for Quinton." The young blonde states meekly, not showing her inner jealousy and ire. _Who does this slut think she is?_

"Who's calling?"

"It's a friend, Hanna."

"Okay, Hanna. Let me just get him, one moment."

"Take your time." Hanna bites out, not wanting to hear the object of her desires as breathless as the woman had been.

Rachel covers the mouthpiece with a hand and whispers to the hazel-eyed man. "Try to sound sleepy or tired."

"What?"

"Like you just finished fucking!"

Quinton nods quickly. "Right, right." He takes the phone and waits a beat before raising the device to his ear. "Hello?" The Broadway diva has to give it to him, he's good. His voice sounds just a tad husky, like he has just been stirred from the edge of slumber and he fakes just a little loss of breath from the "astronomical exercises" he has been partaking in.

"Quinton? Where are you?" Hanna's anger may as well be screamed into the device as inconspicuous as it is.

Quinton takes a deep breath through his nose. "I don't remember the address. Somewhere on the outskirts, I think."

Hanna moves back to her car, her voice a deathly, jealous whisper. "And who was that woman that answered your phone?"

"She's a girl that came into the shop today, asking for for a paint job."

At this time, Rachel decides to end the call. She calls out softly from her spot across from Quinton. "Baby, hang up and come back to bed. We can keep working on those finely chiseled washboard abs of yours." He almost laughs and he lets out a breathy chuckle when he hears the click of the call being disconnected.

Seconds later, he sees Hanna's car peeling away from the Fabray house, leaving tires tracks on the street.

The locks pop open and Rachel comes out, a wide grin on her face.

"Who might this beautiful young lady be?" Russell sends a smile her way.

"My name's Rachel Barbra Berry, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." She shakes his hand.

"Charmed. And please, stop with that 'sir' bullshit. My father was the sir, and the Mr. Fabray. I'm just Russell or Papa Russ. Or whatever other nickname you can give me." The brunette nods and turns back around when he hears mumbled cursing.

"Careful Puck. I'm still sensitive." The temporarily disabled blonde grunts at the Mohawked man.

"May I remind you that you were the one to intentionally drive me into walls while I was in a wheelchair after I broke my leg?" Puck raises an eyebrow.

"No, you may not!" Quinton yells as he's being carried into the house.

Now that she's closer to the man, she can see that the black lines on his inner wrist are actually words inked into his skin.

_Fide liberabit vos._

* * *

**"Faith will set you free" is the meaning I intended for Russ' tat.**

**We'll be reading each other soon guys. Enjoy**


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